On By-the-Sea, you and me will go sailing by
On waves of green, softly singing too.
On By-the-Sea, you and me will be forever young
And live together on waves of blue.
It went on like that for many verses, dozens of voices all singing low and slow. The effect, I had to admit, was rather somber. I got goose bumps down my arms that I tried to hide from Vira. Neither of us was singing, but both of us were listening intently. The bonfire warmed the already warm night, and we took a step deeper into the freezing water to even out our body temperature.
We were joined after a minute by Eloise and Shelby, drunk and giggly, and then by Abigail, stoned and serious. The cinnamon whiskey was gone, and we all looked out at the sky, where the clouds were parting to reveal a big, heavy moon.
Abigail took a step deeper into the water, held her handsup to the sky, and said, “I can’t feel my skin anymore.”
Shelby laughed and said, “Jesus, Abs, how much did you smoke?”
This side of the island faced west, and I looked out as far as I could, straining my eyes against the inky darkness, trying to see the mainland.
It was no use, of course. Even on the clearest of days, the sunniest of mornings, you could only just make out the shore. In this darkness, I could see only the dots of stars, the shadowy outline of bodies. The bonfire was bright, yes, but it also made the rest of the night somehow darker.
I felt hands around my waist and knew it was my sister by the dark smell of impossibility.
“Are you having fun?” she asked.
Nobody was paying attention; everyone was in their own little world, and that’s why I didn’t worry much when I felt her arms start to tug upward, sensed her feet leaving the sand behind me. I turned around to face her and placed my hands heavily on her shoulders.
“Get a grip,” I whispered.
“Oh, shoot,” she said, and splashed back into the water. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Are you ready to go home?”
“Are you kidding me? Nobody’s even gotten naked yet. We have to dance naked under the solstice moon, Georgina, it’s tradition.”
“Well, you can get naked without me,” I said.
“Just give it another half hour or so and I’ll go with you. Please? Don’t make me walk home by myself.”
“Ugh, fine.”
Vira turned around. “Hi, Mary.”
“Hi, Vira.”
“Are you getting naked?”
“Yeah. You?”
“I guess so. I wore my good underwear.”
“I wore a bathing suit,” Eloise chimed in, lifting her dress to reveal a dark-green one-piece with a skirt.
Abigail took a blanket out of an enormous straw bag she’d brought with her and spread it out. Squeezing, all six of us managed to fit.
My sister indeed got naked not long after that, and together with Vira (in her underwear), Eloise (in her bathing suit), and Shelby and Abigail (both also naked), she went charging into the great blue sea. Most of the Beach had, actually, except for me and a few other people too far away to identify.
It wasn’t that I didn’tlikeswimming. I just preferred the warm blanket, the bonfire blazing nearby, the inky darkness of the sky.
I guarded our blanket, my sister’s clothes, and Abigail’s glass pipe. (“This belonged to my great-aunt Dee, okay, so be careful with it and help yourself.”)
